


Diagnosis: Pumpkin Spice

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Halloween, Hannictober, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Pumpkins, Sex goes wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 20:42:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12240291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: Will's pumpkin spice lube gets quite the reaction.





	Diagnosis: Pumpkin Spice

Will was surprised at just how game Hannibal had been to give the pumpkin spice lube a go. Will had bought it from the “bachelorette” section of a party shop and it was clearly meant as a joke. _He’d_ certainly meant it as a joke, seeing as how vehemently Hannibal turned his nose up at the whole pumpkin spice trend. But the label insisted it was 100% “body and condom safe,” so maybe people really did use this stuff on their honeymoons. And what was the last six months on the run together but a honeymoon?

He was two vigorous fingers into Hannibal’s ass when he realized something was wrong.

“Um, is this stuff supposed to be self-heating?” His fingers were getting rather warm. He grabbed the bottle and skimmed the label. “I don’t think this stuff is supposed to be self-heating.”

Hannibal, on his hands and knees, wiggled his posterior flirtatiously. “Perhaps it’s just that I’m so _hot_ for you, Wi—no, wait. I feel it now, as well.”

Will withdrew his hand and stuck it under the bedside lamp for a better look.

“Yeah, my skin looks a little irritated. We better get you cleaned up before the same happens to you.”

But Hannibal was already up and running to the bathroom, shouting over his shoulder, “Too late! Much too late!”

*****

An hour later, after several cool water rinses and a liberal application of hydrocortisone cream had failed to bring any relief, they found themselves in the nearest ER.

“We’re going to get caught,” Hannibal whispered. He was sitting gingerly in the waiting room chair, one cheek raised up so the afflicted area wouldn’t make contact with the seat. “If Jack Crawford finds us because I have an irritated rectum—”

“Irritated isn’t the half of it,” Will whispered back. “‘You didn’t see it! My _fingers_ are 'irritated.’ Your _asshole_ looks like a glazed doughnut that a stampede ran over.”

Hannibal winced at the description but didn’t argue further.

They were finally seen by a nurse who just looked tired when Will haltingly explained what had happened. He got as far as describing just what he was doing with his fingers when she cut him off.

“Not judging you,” she said, “but I see a hundred of these cases every fall.”

Will blinked. Hannibal blinked. “You do?” they asked in unison.

“It gets worse every year,” she sighed. “It’s what’s known in the medical community as Autumn Bottom.”

Hannibal looked utterly mortified.

She scanned through her notes. “What brand was it this time? The Pumpkin Spice Booty with the pirate on the label, or the Pumpkin Spice Pleasures with the label that looks like a Yankee Candle?”

“Um, the candle one,” Will admitted.

“Yeah, that tends to be the worst one,” she said, shaking her head slowly.

She got Hannibal set up with a steroid injection as well as a prescription for a topical cream that she said Will could use on his fingers, too. As they left the ER feeling somewhat better, she gave them one last word of warning.

“Just stay away from the novelty products this Christmas,” she said, pointedly looking at Will. “I don’t want to see you back in here with a Peppermint's Dick.”


End file.
